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Halo: Minorca Saga/Chapter Two
SEVENTH CYCLE, NINTH AGE OF RECLAMATION (COVENANT BATTLE CALENDAR) / HIGH CHARITY, MINISTRY OF TRANQUILITY LIBRARY There are good days and there are bad days for him. And the Prophet suspects that this will be a very bad day. The chamber was silent save for the humming of its hover-throne. The Vice-Minister rotated, floating gently over to a display, a glass case shrouding a small object. His library was large, but even this vast chamber could not hope to accomodate even a fraction of the information the Prophets had accumulated on the Forerunners, the Ancient Ones. But nevertheless, the towering racks of paper books and scrolls and data chips were enough to satiate his needs. The glass splits open, allowing the Vice-Minister to see the object unsullied by the impurities in the glass. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a small rock of chalcedonic quartz, no larger than a fist. Oddly square-shaped, yes, but little more. Even a trained eye would have missed the millions of glyphs inscribed at a microscopic level, most no larger than the head of a pin. Time had taken its toll on the artefact. Most of the glyphs and its precious information had been lost as the glyphs were worn away by the constraints of time. But there was still plenty left for the Vice-Ministers purposes. A shadow moved behind him, and the Prophets hand went to a button on his hoverthrone, ready to open a hidden compartment where he kept a personally modified plasma rifle. Assassination attempts were all an too common sign of discontent, and he regarded it as a sign that he was doing his job properly. Thankfully, this was not such an attempt. “You summoned me, Holy One?” The voice was deep and throaty, more so than any Sangheili. “Yes, Chieftain. Please, take a seat. We may be here for some time.” The Jiralhanae towered over the Prophet. It stood taller than the Sangheili even, and was a wall of solid muscle and anger. Its fangs jutted from its jaw, giving it the appearance of constantly growling. The only signs of sentience where the thick armour plating that covered the warrior, the trimmed fur, and the keep and glittering eyes that looked out at the world. He pressed another button, summoning a hover-drone, programming his request into it and sitting back. The drone sped off deep into the Library. “Normally, few outsiders are allowed within the Ministry of Tranquillity’s library, Erebus. Even I had to go through much for my own entrance. It took considerable effort to allow you here too.” The warrior bowed his head. “I am grateful that you trust me so much, Holy One.” The Prophet smiled. “It has nothing to do with trust, my friend. You are useful to my goals, and may prove useful. In turn, there are things you require of me. It is a mutually beneficial partnership that I hope shall blossom with the fruit of our labours, but never make the mistake of trusting me, Erebus. I have stayed alive by never trusting any, and my shrewdness has served me well.” “Surely there must be some you trust, Holy One? To live in fear of ones life eternally is no way to live, even for one such as yourself.” There had been. So many years ago. But, alas, she was gone, dead and dust and memory. His Ophelia…. “Is that pity I hear in your voice, Erebus?” he asked amused. “No, Holy One. Merely concern at your safety.” The Prophet harrumphed in disbelief, but was flattered nonetheless. He made few friends he could actually depend on, and the machination of politics allowed him so few pleasures in life. Perhaps he had found an intellectual equal in this Jiralhanae? The thought scared him for a moment. But it also thrilled him. He smiled as the drone returned, a number of artefacts and scrolls clutched in its robotic hands. “Ah – our quarry arrives at last. If you would, Chieftain?” The warrior lifted the scrolls, more deftly than the Prophet would have believed possible for a creature of his size, and gently laid them out on a small bench. “If you would, please read the scroll marked 887-B aloud.” The chieftain unrolled it, and took it in for a moment before beginning. “”We lie in rest biding our time; Stone and earth above us; Silent sentinels awaiting the Journey; Eternal, infinite, immeasurable; Awaiting the Journey; And watching until the day; When all the world ends; Not with a bang – but a whimper.”” He looked up at the prophet. “Lovely poetry, Holy One. But is its meaning?” “I do not know. Not yet. Please, continue with the next scroll.” The warrior picked up a second scroll, gently unrolling it. ““And I looked upon the glory of the gods, and beheld seven magnificent angels, with sacred rings about their heads as haloes. And behind them, I saw a disk of light, spinning, and each ring was encircled with light and fire and energy. And the Labyrinth watches with me, even now, and so I tell you – find the Labyrinth, and stop the Journey!”” The Jiralhanae looked up in confusion. “I comprehend the scared rings, though the disk eludes me. But why in the name of all that is holy would a heretic manuscript be in a Ministry archive?” “This particular section is dedicated to all those works that the Hierarchs and ministry officials have deemed apocryphical, that have been rejected as heresy of worse. But they still serve their purpose. As for why the author was a heretic, I do not know. This was the only work of his they ever found, and before it was he was well known as a raving madman. But it has allowed me some…insight. Continue with the last scroll, if you please.” The Jiralhanae gently set it down, though with more disdain than the last one, and unrolled the last of the trio. ““That is not dead which can eternal lie; and in strange aeons, even death may die.”” Now the Jiralhane looked at the prophet with more suspicion. “Why did you bring me here, Holy One? To serve you and read aloud what your hands cannot lift and your eyes cannot see? I am no servant, Prophet, I am-” “Peace, Erebus. I have brought you here for a purpose, one I think you shall enjoy very much. But first, a little background explanation is in order for you to understand. That is the point of your readings. “The first text was set down four hundred Cycles ago by a Sangheili scholar. His other works were of…dubious canonicity, and so this too was rejected with the rest. But I have read much heretical works, Chieftain, and this does not seem like them. It seems more like the ravings of a madman have finally subsided into true wisdom before death. It has told me that there is more to beginning the Great Journey than merely the Halo rings, sacred as they are. Much more. “The third text is a direct excerpt from the Ascension Codex, and though I still do not know what it means, I have some ideas. At the very least, it does not bode well for us. At the most, it could destroy us all. It shall point us to the enemy we shall face, and help us to crush it.” And the first? The prophet knew the Jiralhanae must be wondering, but that was not for now. He was not ready to part with some secrets, and the warrior was not ready to listen to this one yet. He did not believe, and only belief would let him hear the true meaning without contempt. But belief would come later. For now, he raised the stone and set it in his lap. “there are many glyphs on this artefact, Chieftain. Messages, star coordinates, perhaps even the laws of the gods themselves. Few know what the glyphs mean, and fewer still have bothered to translate such a damaged relic. But I did, and I have been rewarded for my efforts.” He tapped a sequence of buttons on his hover-throne, and a holograph sprang to life – fifty two symbols. He moved his hands, twisting and rearranging them until it formed a coherent shape – an ornate star, with a spherical centre and eight arms branching out. “these glyphs are star coordinates. There are others here, that have led us to other reliquary worlds, though none so rich as the human world, “Harvest”. But that is about to change. I am leading a force to the reliquary planet, and shall excavate the sacred relics there. I would have you and your warriors accompany me – for my protection, and your enlightenment.” The Jiralhanae looked thoughtful for a moment, staring at the first scroll intently. It nodded. “By your command, Holy One. My clan and I shall journey with you, keeping you safe. But what of the Sangheili? Surely they shall oppose us?” “Leave that to me, Chieftain. Assemble your clan, and board my flagship, the Carrier Enlightenment. Tell them you have my blessings to be there, and that I command you to be given rooms in the Prophet’s Guards Quarters.” The Minister waited until the Jiralhanae had left the room, before he flicked the switch on his hover-throne. There was a crackle, and a burst of light, and a lowing blue figure appeared before the Vice-Minister. “You did well, Vice-Minister. The Jiralhanae are fine warriors – powerful, brave…and above all, loyal. They shall make fine replacements for the Sangheili. Some day.” “The sooner that day comes, the safer I shall feel.” “so shall we ALL Vice Minister. But do you trust him with this secret? It was a great risk to our plans. If his sense of honour outweighs his sense of duty, then it shall be a major blow.” The Vice-Minister thought for a moment. “I do not trust him, but I understand him. The only thing that is stronger than his sense of duty is his hatred of the Sangheili. He will not give them such a reason. He will keep the secret.” “Indeed…I hope you are as good a judge of character as you are a schemer and plotter, Vice-Minister.” “So do I, noble Prophet of Truth. So do I…” Category:Minorca Saga